(In Canada, we only have one major book retailer, however, not all the stores have the same name. Large stores are called Chapters and small stores are called Coles. The uniforms for all the stores are identical, except of course that the vests say either “Chapters” or “Coles” depending on which store you work in. I work in a Coles, but on this day have gone straight to Chapters after work to grab a book that my own store didn’t have in stock. I don’t think twice about the fact that I still have my uniform on until this happens)
Customer: “Excuse me, can you tell me where to find [book]?”
Me: “I’m sorry, I have no idea.” *suddenly realizing he assumes I’m working* “I don’t actually work here…”
(We both glance down at my work vest)
Customer: “… Oh, Coles! Okay… Well, this is embarrassing!”
Me: “Sorry I can’t help you…”
(He leaves, and I find my book and head to the cash. Guess who shows up right behind me?)
Customer: *sounding proud of himself* “I found it anyway!”
Me: “Well that’s good!”
(I’m glad the whole encounter went without any drama, but from now on I’ll definitely make sure I take off my work vest before going inside another store!)
(We’re at a New Year’s party, playing card games and catching up. One of my friends has brought a newcomer to our gathering, who seems… interesting.)
Newcomer: *while trying to hold cards we’re handing him very artistically* “Whoa, look at this; it’s like the sixteenth chapel over here!”
Friend: *after a pause* “Did you just say, ‘sixteenth chapel’?”
Newcomer: “Yeah?”
Friend: “Did you mean the Sistine Chapel?”
Newcomer: “Oh, is that what it’s called? I just thought there were a lot of chapels in Rome so they just started numbering them!”
My coworker and another employee aere alerted to a problem in the family changing room: a couple is inside one of the changing cubicles, obviously getting it on despite the nearby children. The parents are understandably upset.
The other employee took action and walked up to the cubicle’s door and began knocking and repeatedly saying: “Hurry up!” (knock-knock-knock) “Hurry up!” (knock-knock-knock) “Hurry up!” (knock-knock-knock).
The couple eventually came out, sheepishly washed their hands, and left.
(Our theatre has one auditorium, [Hall], with two levels: orchestra and balcony. When taking tickets, I routinely have these conversations with patrons:)
Me: “Okay, you’re upstairs in the balcony, nearest—”
Patron: “WE ARE NOT IN THE BALCONY! WE ARE IN [HALL]!”
Me: *politely* “Yes, the balcony section of [Hall].”
Patron: *snatches ticket back and storms up the stairs*
(Another example:)
Patron: *rushing up in a panic* “The sign says ‘orchestra’ above the door to the theatre! We don’t want to watch the orchestra; we want to see the play! We paid to see the play!”
Me: *politely* “Yes, you will be able to see the play. Your seats are simply on the first level of the auditorium.”
Patron: “Oh. But if the orchestra blocks our view, can we get a refund?”
Me: *picking my battles* “This play doesn’t have an orchestra. I’m sure you’ll be fine, but please let the staff know if there are any problems.”
(Another example: seeing, “ORCH,” short for “orchestra,” on their ticket, a patron asks, completely serious:)
Patron: “Does ‘orch’ mean there’s an orchard in there?”
(Every year my mom calls long-distance to wish me a happy birthday. About six years ago, no call. No call in the evening after work. No call the next morning. So, finally, I call her the evening after my birthday. I generally call my mom every other day.)
Mom: “Oh, hi, I was wondering when you’d call. Hadn’t heard from you in days.”
Me: “Well, I thought you would have called me yesterday.”
Mom: “Why?”
Me: “Well, it was my birthday.”
Mom: “No, it wasn’t.”
Me: “Uh, yeah. Has been for 47 years.”
Mom: “Oh, well… Happy birthday.”
(Every year she now calls at seven am saying, “I don’t want you to think I forgot your birthday. Again.”)
